Writing One Word At A Time

“It is frozen.” This is my mother’s description of her current cable situation. I went over to her house after picking up Bailey, who informed me, that he had a bad headache. Asking Bailey questions about his health is like asking a politician about the current state of affairs……..it is very vague. The full length of the drive over to my mother’s home concluded that he was “fine”. Sometimes I feel like we are playing Charades and I kind of hate that game. Originally, I had gone over to pick up some bills that needed to be paid. Her caregiver had called in sick and the cable situation became an emergency.

Calling the cable company is like water torture. At least I am assuming it is as I have never actually experienced being tortured by water. Let’s just say, I would rather do anything else than chat it up with their customer service specialist. As the lucky person on the other end of the phone was walking me through the reset, my mother continued her helpful diagnosis of “it’s frozen”. Bailey, who by this time is lying on the sofa after being catered to by his grandmother, tells her to “be quiet”. This goes on and on until we figure out that the cable box needs to be replaced. Duh, as this is the second time in a week that this has happened and the first time, the technician didn’t see any reason to replace it. After getting the time arranged for their handy service professional to come the next day anytime between 3-4, I realize I am sweating. As most elderly people do, my mother has the heat cranked up to 75 and by this time, it is 62 degrees outside. I gather my kid and her bills while bidding farewell. As we get to the car, Bailey say, “I feel like a cooked pizza,” A sentiment that I can agree with as beads of sweat have gathered on our foreheads.

There is something to be said about patience and tolerance. These two attributes sometimes vacate the premises when I am dealing with difficult situations. With my mother screaming “it’s frozen” to my son’s vague illness, I was able to be mostly kind and compassionate. Only once did I lash out at both of them to be quiet as I tried to navigate the cable system. Both laughed at me and my mother says to my son, “I guess we are in trouble,”. (I rolled my eyes so hard, it hurt.) Today, I will meet the cable guy to make sure they fix the problem, but with the temperature issue in the house, I will wear lightweight clothing and pretend I am at the beach.

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Published by allisonjones2

I am a writer/blogger residing in Louisville, Kentucky, whose writing has appeared in The Courier-Journal, TOPS Louisville, and a variety of other publications. I cuss a little, but I do love Jesus. My writing is really just an online diary that is layered in humor sharing my human struggles while juggling writing, family, and my fur babies.
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